


Going to the Cinema

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2017 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Moana (2016) References, Movie Night, POV Child, Parenthood, cinema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: John and Sherlock take Rosie to the cinema. They remember to turn off their mobile phones. (Spoiler alert: It doesn't help.)





	Going to the Cinema

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyprydian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyprydian/gifts).



> It’s the second night of Hanukkah, and the second story! Today’s prompt is from ladyprydian, who asked for Sherlock and John taking Rosie to the movies. Inspired by my 8yo, who pulls the Sherlock trick every time we rewatch a movie. _Every. Time._ Thanks to Kizzia, who gave this a quick Brit-pick because it's been so long I was fairly sure I'd forgotten how to write British. I fiddled afterwards (as you do), so blame me if there's something a bit screwy.

There’s popcorn and seats that rock back when she wiggles and Dad spills Fanta when he tries to fit the oversized cup into the cup holder—

_(Fucking hell!_ he mutters, to which Sherlock replies, _Language, John!)_

—and Rosie knows all the words by heart because Mrs. Hudson lets her turn the music way up high when they’re mopping in the hallway or racing down the A4—

_(Now don’t tell your father, dear,_ says Mrs. Hudson, right before she floors the acceleration A-C-C-E-L-E-R-A-T-I-O-N acceleration.)

—so it doesn’t matter a bit that they’re late for the short—

( _John, I told you we should have left fifteen minutes earlier,_ says Sherlock, and Dad says, _Never mind, you would have hated it_.)

—and when the screen goes blue and the lights dance on the water in front of the fairy-tale castle, Rosie can’t help the wiggle of excitement goes through her because she’s _there_ , she’s _watching_ , she’s flanked by her two favorite people in the _world_ —

( _What do you mean I would have hated it?_ demands Sherlock, and Dad says, somewhat irritably, _Because you can never stop deducting anything, you pretentious git,_ and someone behind them hisses, _Shhhhh!_ )

“Quiet, Sherlock,” whispers Rosie.

Sherlock sulks but goes quiet because he can’t refuse Rosie anything reasonable.

( _It was a reasonable request, John,_ says Sherlock, and Dad says, _It’s bloody four degrees outside and rain up to her ankles, and you let her splash around in it when she’s already got a cough?_ and Sherlock says, _It was science!_ )

The legend of Te Fiti unfolds on the screen and Rosie can’t even _blink_ it’s so beautiful, the green girl in the middle of all the water, her heart so full of life the way that Rosie’s heart is so full of happiness, and Rosie loves the way Te Fiti’s arms move as if conducting the world into existence—

( _I can too stop deducting things_ , mutters Sherlock, and Dad says _, Of course you can; Rosie, stop moving your arms around, love, you’re going to knock over the – bloody hell,_ as Fanta goes dripping on the floor and Sherlock says, _Language, John_ , and now there’s two someones who are hissing _Shhhh_ at them. _)_

—Maui is _amazing_ , so funny and big and cuddly and smart like Mr. Uncle Mycroft and Rosie wants to zoom through the world like a bird and a lizard and a beetle and why can’t she have curly hair like his anyway and it’s all she can do not to cry out when he pries the heart out of Te Fiti and it falls in his hand—

( _I didn’t deduct Rosie’s school friend yesterday,_ says Sherlock, and Dad says, _That’s not the – wait, what did you deduct about her school friend?_ and somewhere behind them a voice pipes up, _If you two don’t shut up I’m going to find the manager._ )

—and the island erupts into smoke and the ocean is boiling and Maui is racing and Rosie is bouncing on the end of her seat and Te Kā rises from the water, fierce and fiery and angry with her claws and her steam and her—

“Oh, now, _obviously_ that’s Te Fiti in another guise since her heart was stolen,” says Sherlock loudly.

“Sherlock!” hisses Dad even as a little girl behind them twists around in her seat.

“Mummy! Is he right?”

“Look at it!” exclaims Sherlock, flinging his arm to the screen. “Of course it is! You should see Molly when I misplace the cadavers.”

There’s a strangled cry from the little girl’s mother, and a man muttering how he’s going to see about getting the manager.

Rosie gets up to her knees and puts her hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. It’s a precarious position, given how her seat is determined to rock back and forth, but she pretends she’s Moana on the boat in the middle of the Pacific arguing with Maui and she doesn’t fall.

“Sherlock,” says Rosie sternly, “ _we_ know that. But _Maui_ doesn’t know that yet, and if he found out, there wouldn’t be a movie.”

“Love, I don’t think—” begins Dad.

But Sherlock is nodding. “A reasonable analysis. All right.”

Which is when the flashlight shines in their faces. “Is there a problem here?”

“Yes,” says Sherlock, and holds up the empty popcorn box. “I wanted _salted_ popcorn.”

( _I am never taking you to a movie again,_ threatens Dad, and Sherlock says, _Oh, John, it’s not like we were actually thrown out,_ and Rosie skips between them, holding their hands because when she jumps, they hold her aloft, and she can pretend she’s flying over the ocean on her way to save the world.)

 


End file.
